Beauty and the Frost Giant
by TheDoctorIsIn1313
Summary: Long story short: the Council wants to see if Loki could be used as part of the Avengers. Nick Fury decides to send Anna Reinhardt, a former agent turned therapist with a very special talent, out to Asgard to conduct a psych profile. She is intrigued by the god's twisted version of the events of the past year, and pushes deep to find the good she believes is still there. 1st story!


"If you come any closer, I'll jump!"

Anna Reinhardt paused, holding out her arm to stop the three cops coming up behind her. "It's just me, Brian," she called out, stepping into the weak Seattle sunlight. Her hands were held up non-threateningly.

The skinny kid whirled around, the wind blowing his thin blond hair up in spiky swirls. "What're you doing here, Doc?"

"Well…" She moved to stand a few feet away from where he had set up a perch on the edge of the roof. "I heard you were… not doing so good today."

He kicked the toe of his battered shoe against the stone ledge. "Yeah. I guess you could say that."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" She edged closer, trying to get close enough to be able to grab for him if he tried anything. Looking back out across the cityscape that lay before him, he didn't even notice.

"Doc, how do you…" His brown eyes, usually round and soft for a boy, locked on hers. "How do you know if… you're a bad person?"

"There's no such thing as a bad person, Brian. We've talked about this. Remember?"

"Cause I really think I might be a bad person."

"You made a mistake, once. You were just a kid. You're still just a kid-"

"No, I'm not!" he shouted, his hands clenching into fists. "I'm not a kid anymore!"

Anna seemed unconcerned by his change in tone. "Really? Because what you're doing right now is very childish."

"People kill themselves every day. People a lot older than me."

"You're only thinking about yourself, just like a child. Children are always selfish, because they don't know any better. You know better, Brian. You know this is only going to cause more pain."

"Not for me."

"What about for Sophie?" As she expected, the name of his little sister brought a flame of color to his cheeks. He turned away, to look back down at the bustling life below. "Hmm? What do you think she'll feel when she gets the news?"

"Glad." His voice was sulky and petulant. "Glad she doesn't have to see me anymore."

"You know that's not true." She approached another step, and he took one back, the heel of one shoe hanging over into open space. Anna quickly halted. "She'll be devastated. You're the only family she has left, Brian."

"Yeah, well, no family is better than having to be _my _sister."

"She loves you."

"Yeah, well, _I_ don't love me!" He pointed emphatically at himself. "She doesn't have to go to sleep every night knowing that the skeletons will be there, waiting to pull me down-"

"You're having nightmares again?" She gave an exasperated sigh, pushing a hand back through her coffee-colored hair. "Brian, why didn't you tell me?"

"Nothing you do helps!"

"I can't help when you don't tell me everything-"

"I can't tell you everything!" He was breathing hard, as if he had been running a marathon. "I can't… because… because I don't want to remember…" His clenched fists dug into his temples. "I don't want to remember… any more…"

An alarm bell clanged in the back of Anna's mind. She watched as one of his feet dropped out over the side, his body twisting in a graceful spin as he threw himself off the roof-

Anna lunged for him an instant before he could make the move; grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and hurling him back down onto the roof. He fell with a sharp cry, and before he could get up again, the cops had swarmed like ants on a grain of sugar. One knelt beside him, reading his Miranda rights, while another cuffed him. The third was on his radio, presumably sounding the all-clear.

It took both of the cops to haul him up on his feet. There was a glazed, lifeless expression in his chocolate eyes. "Why, Doc?" he mumbled. "Why didn't you… let me?"

"Every life is worth saving." She didn't have time to say more before they took him away, one on either side as they disappeared through the door and down the stairs. She sighed, rubbing a knot that tightened painfully at the base of her neck. A friend of hers had once told her that this job aged you about ten times faster than all the others. Given her, well, _colorful_ work history, she had just laughed it off. Now she was starting to realize that, no matter how cliché, it was true.

The third cop still stood there, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his weather-beaten, stained jacket. "Do ya really mean that?"

Suddenly exhausted, she gathered her thoughts and focused on him. "Mean what?"

"Every life is worth savin'."

"Yes." Her hand dropped back down to her side. "I do. I really believe that."

"What about the ones that've took lives? Like the kid. Are they still worth it?"

"There are none so good that they have no faults," she replied, "and none so wicked that they are worth nothing."

He was silent for a moment, thinking over her words. "Well," he finally said, rocking back on his heels. "For the kid's sake, I hope you're right."

Then he turned and vanished, like the others, down the stairs. Anna looked back over the building's edge, staring almost aimlessly out across the city. All these people going about with their lives, not knowing or caring that another life had very nearly been lost.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I hope so, too."

She had just arrived back at her office, had hardly even shut the door, in fact, when the next bombshell of the day landed with a soft whistle and exploded in her lap.

As she lowered herself into her chair, her bad knee throbbing, there was a knock. Anna had heard all kinds of knocks; at one time, she had considered herself quite an expert in them. A timid, soft knock indicated either bad news or a shy visitor. Loud, insistent pounding was an emergency or some enraged patients. This one was firm and steady, three determined raps to the frame. That meant business.

With an annoyed grimace, she pushed herself back up and limped to the door. Calm, neutral expression in hand, she pulled the door open. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Doctor Anna Reinhardt?"

Pointedly, she looked at the plaque on the door that was emblazoned with that exact title and quipped, "Well, if I'm not, I guess I'd better get the hell out of her office, huh?"

The dark-suited man did not smile. "Are you Dr. Anna Reinhardt?"

"Yes, yes." Yeesh. This guy did not know how to take a joke. "What do you want?"

He pushed past her into the office. "I need to speak with you."

She remained in the door for a moment, trying to convince herself that popping his arm out of joint or landing a roundhouse kick on his face would probably not bode too well for her, especially with a sore knee. "Please, won't you come in?" she muttered as she shut the door and turned to face him, arms crossed.

"I'm sorry to intrude, but I was told to speak with you the moment you arrived back at your office."

Something about the way he stood at attention and the stilted formality in his voice niggled in her subconscious. She frowned, refusing to dwell on it, rounding up her mind back into the present. "Well, you've succeeded. However, if I have to ask what you want one more time, you might not like how I get the answer."

He hesitated for a moment, thinking over her threat. "I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention-"

She exhaled, an exasperated sound, and cut him off before he could finish. "You can spare me the details, Agent." Limping over to her desk, she leaned against the side. "I worked for SHIELD for almost six years. I know more about that title than you ever will."

"Yes, ma'am. I've been instructed to escort you to receive briefing on your latest assignment-"

"Excuse me. I've been retired from agent work for three years now. What assignment?"

"The Avengers Initiative." The agent frowned. "Has Director Fury not called-"

The phone rang in the middle of his sentence, and Anna glared at it, knowing exactly who was on the other end and not liking it one bit. Snatching up the phone, she snapped, "You've got some explaining to do."

"Sounds like Miller's jumped the gun on me." Despite her obvious annoyance, Fury sounded deeply amused.

"You're lucky I don't have a gun, or your agent would be so full of holes, he'd look like a slice of Swiss cheese."

Miller's eyes doubled in size, but Fury just laughed. "Three years, and you've still got the same temper. Phil certainly wasn't lying about that."

Anna's hand tightened around the phone receiver, turning her knuckles stark white. "You've certainly got balls, Fury. Calling me out of nowhere. Sending an agent to my office. Throwing Phil's name around like that will change _anything_ about what you did to me-"

"Anna, I never made that call-"

"But you let it happen!"

There was a long silence, broken by a tired sigh. "Now isn't the time for this conversation. Go with Miller. He'll take you somewhere that we can talk." He hung up, and Anna was left to listen to the dial tone. With a strangled cry, she slammed the phone back down and whirled on Miller.

"You! We're leaving. Now!"

"Yes, ma'am." He turned and practically ran out the door. Anna waited until it swung shut behind him before going behind her desk and pressing a hidden spring. A secret drawer popped open, revealing a gleaming black gun nestled in a shoulder holster. She slipped it on, the unfamiliar but oddly comforting weight of the gun pressing under her left shoulder blade. A thin black jacket hanging by the door hid it from view, but not access. The last time she had crossed paths with SHIELD weaponless, it had very nearly cost her both her and a fellow agent's life.

She wasn't about to make that same mistake again.


End file.
